Alley Cat's Howl
by Shenaniganary
Summary: YJ Anon kink meme fill. Walling. Artemis/Wally. Lemon. Explicit.


**This is a repost of a fill I posted on the yj_anon_meme kink meme. The content has been edited from its original content, as I post the original before I truly edited it. I did indeed write this in its entirety, before and after the edits.**

**Original Prompt:**

Prompt: Wall!Porn. Wally/Robin or Wally/Artims or Superboy/Aqualad.

**Disclaimer: Artemis/Artemis Crock and Kid Flash/Wally West do not belong to me, nor does the universe they occupy.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It's wet and cold and dark. Reflecting on it numbly as they grab and claw at each other in the dark, Artemis wonders about her sanity, her peace of mind. This is _crazy_, insane, and completely and utterly stupid. And she's doing it anyway.

They're in an alley and the only reason she's not gagging from the smell is because the rain has washed it away for one brief, blessed moment and there's a tongue in her mouth. She breathes harshly through her nose and snakes her arm tighter around his shoulders, dragging him closer even as he bends down to deepen the kiss; his tongue a slick, mobile thing, too fast to catch. She tries anyway, nipping and biting as his tongue flicks over hers, sucking and retreating only to come back again. She hates it; she _hates_ it in the best possible way. His teeth nibble at her lower lip and his hips press her harder against the wet brick as he obeys her clawing fingers fisting against his back, pulling him closer.

She's freezing; soaked to the bone from the downpour. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and a familiar crackling static sparks in her ear as their communicators try to cope with sudden increase of electricity in the air, but she doesn't care. Doesn't have time to care. Not when there's a scalding hot body pressing down on her and an answering heat in her belly. Not when they break apart with an obscene noise, only to grunt breathlessly when he _bites_ her neck because she's armored there and can't feel anything less.

"Fuck," She whispers into the night air, her fingers scratching, digging into the thin material of his suit as he adjusts his hips, sliding them together until they're rocking against each other in just the right way, the _best_ fucking way, "_Fuck_."

She feels his breathless laugh against her ear as he bites her earlobe, "Yeah," He says and she feels one hand try to bury itself in her hair and the other tries to slip under the top of her own suit. She snorts and knocks his hand away, grabbing at it to bring it straight to her breast instead.

"Not on the first date," she murmurs against his lips and he snorts and squeezes because that's a _ridiculous_ thing to say at a time like this but she's too impatient, too charged, too _fucking cold_ to make an issue of it. Later, next time, right after they stop maybe. She wonders what it would be like to have his tongue on them, licking, _sucking_ and she feels heat bloom deeper and her body ratchet tighter.

She groans as he leans over to lick at her shoulder. It's the only real skin he can get to, other than her face and hands, and she hikes a leg up against his hip, hitching herself higher until she can feel him hot and so _hard_ against right where she _needs _him to be.

He moans, long and low, and _grinds_ his hips into hers, his hands hitching her even higher so she can wrap her other leg around his hips and tug him even closer. Always _closer_. Because she needs this contact more than air now and his face is close enough that she can see the freckles peeking out from beneath his mask, stark against his pale white skin. She licks them, half for the taste—absurdly, because with the rain it's not like she'll be able to taste anything else—and half because it makes him look at her, sea green eyes dark and searching even through the pupil-blown haze.

She smirks at him because the only other option is to kiss that sweet, red mouth, still swollen from kisses. He's such a _virgin_ even though he claims (loudly and frequently enough) otherwise. She loves it. Loves it in the dark, twisted part of her mind because it means he's _hers_ in the best ways, the sweetest ways. _She'll_ be the one he'll always remember. _She'll_ have a hold on him he'll never be able to shake. It's a bit sick and more than a little wrong, but watching him as he pants and tries to match his movements to hers—she won't _let_ him move as fast as he wants, not with her legs around him tightening like a vice; not when she gets to have a long look without him ruining it by insinuating that damn _Red Arrow_ is better, or worse, when he tries to flirt with her—it's perfect.

When he's quiet and serious and looking at her with _those eyes_.

Maybe she's got a kink, who the hell knows, who the hell _cares_. She doesn't; not when he tries something new, shoving her back against the alley wall with enough force to make her grunt and her legs to tighten reflexively and having to fucking _remind _herself not to bash him in the head. And not when she shoves out with her other hand to claw at his mask and tear it off his face instead. Red welts slice over his features, from her nails scraping across his face as she rips, but they fade in moments and she gets a free look at his eyes.

He bares his teeth at her, more challenge than grin, "That hurt,"

"Yeah?" She gasps out a laugh as they move together, hips rolling against each other just right way and the only way it could get better is if they weren't wearing _clothes_. She twists her hand around to cup the back of his head and drag him to her. Those lips have healed too, and that's just not even remotely acceptable anymore, "Then _make_ me regret it, Flash Boy."

She shoves her hips against his, back arching because _fuck everything_ it feels _bloody fucking amazing_ and grins against it as she hears him cry out and shove back harder, pressing her against the wall with his entire body, shuddering and shaking with effort. She glorifies in it, revels in the sensation of being _held_, being _owned_ for that one glorious, sweet moment, until she feels the flare of wet heat between them an laughs even as she feels herself _clench_ for it.

"You're so fucking _cute_ sometimes, you know that?"

He jerks back, cheeks flaming and opens his mouth to protest—and she just rolls against him, leaning back against the protruding rocks, licking her lips and watching as he swears and tries not to drop her from the overload of sensation.

"Make it up to me," She murmurs, letting go of her hold on his shoulders to tug at her top until her breasts are bared, nipples hard and dark from both the cold and anticipation. She watches him through half-lidded eyes as he stares and swallows, eyes fixed avidly as they heave with each of her breaths.

"What about first dates?" He asks sweetly, eyes darting up to hers for one mischievous moment. She chokes out another laugh in surprise and watches his gaze immediately snap back to her chest.

She hums and tightens her grip on the back of his neck with her free hand, "I think we're past that by now," She glances down at their hips, "And if you're good maybe I won't make you regret not coming inside me when you had the chance."

She bites her lip and rides the harsh buck that follows, gasping against the liquid heat blooming in her belly and the tight spasm that follows, informing her that _yes_ that was something to regret and she _definitely_ shouldn't let such a tragedy happen again.

She licks her teeth and lets herself dream of afters as she watches him bend to her, his mouth dangerously close to just where she wants it most. She can feel his breath, teasing over her sensitized flesh (unintentionally, because she _knows_ he's never done this before. He's too sweet, too _innocent_ and she can't wait to see that _change_) and moans for him, arching forward that last _inch_.

He takes her in his mouth, slowly, carefully, like he's unsure of what to do or how she would taste. She gasps and kicks out at him, fucking arching for _more_ because she hadn't realized how _cold_ she was, how _hot_ his perfect fucking mouth _is_. She cries out and claws at him because he may be a fucking _idiot_ sometimes but at least he's a fast _learner_. He suckles at her breast, pressing her harder against the uneven wall as his other hand flexes and releases her hip, tentatively snaking up her belly to slide over her previously unattended breast.

"Mm, _fuck_," She grits out, biting her lip against the rush of sensation, her hips grinding against his in tiny motions without her consent. She can feel his groan through her breast and it spikes through her system like the best sort of drug, "Fuck, _fuck_,"

The communicator in her ear crackles and she almost groans aloud in dismay. How could the timing be any worse than right now? She's going to have to have a talk with Kaldur about this when she can think again. She feels Wally start and try to break away and growls in protest, thighs tightening until even he can feel the pain of it.

She squeezes his neck, forcing his head up to hers even as her body _aches_ for the lack.

"You have two options," She pants, breathing as much of his breath as the thick, wet air, "We can either listen to Kaldur and go back now, with no fucking afterward." He blinks at her, jaw slack, "Or you can get me off here, use that _superspeed_ you like to brag so much about and get us back to Mt. Justice before anyone's the wiser. Then we spend the rest of the day in your room, fucking until we can't move."

She watches as his pupils dilate and contract and licks her lips. She already knows the answer before he even starts to open his mouth.

"Give me your fingers."

Confusion flares for one ridiculous moment before she snorts and rolls her eyes. She moves then, reaching for and then dragging his hand up to her mouth. She tugs off his gauntlet, tossing it to the ground and gives his middle finger a long, slow lick when he looks like he's about to start talking. His eyes widen then narrow and she watches his Adam's apple bob thickly.

She grins and shifts her grip, pressing his first two fingers against his own lips. He gives her a dubious look, complete with raised brow, and opens his mouth again, probably to say something that would ruin the mood—but she presses his fingers into it instead. He jerks, and tries to protest, but she hushes him with a look.

"No way are you getting your fingers in me without this first," She murmurs, watching as his eyes widen again, processing that even as she feels him tense for it. She grins and presses his fingers deeper, licking her own lips as she watches his cheeks hollow just a little.

She can't wait to find out what his tongue feels like, too.

She waits; just long enough for the anticipation to become more than absolutely unbearable, before sliding those sweet long out of his mouth. She inspects them; both for the way it makes him twitch and for the way it makes her body tighten. Waiting. And not all that patiently either.

She looks at him as she draws their hands down, tugging her belt and tights free with a quick, efficient motion. There's only so much time for tease. She presses their hands into her tights, stretching the material almost painfully, but it's worth it for the feel of his hot skin against hers, parting the short blonde hairs down to where she's hot and wet, pulsing for the feel of his fingers even before she feels him rub her clit.

She gasps for it, grins as her hips give a little writhe because he's tentative, unsure, but still pressing downward _anyway_. She coaxes him down slowly, watching as his face flushes with color as he feels how wet she is for him.

"Yeah," She murmurs, his eyes darting up to her face as she shifts forward for better access, "Just like that."

He smiles and it's beautiful, blinding almost, and she bites her lip at the feel of his fingers slipping through her slick folds, parting them as she presses down on his and letting out a breathy whine as she feels him find her entrance.

She expects him to press beyond immediately, no finesse, no real attention paid, but he pets her opening with one long stroke and she arches for it, grunts out a curse because _fuck_. She wants him inside, wants him thick and _hard_ for her and fucking her into the bed, the wall, maybe the _floor_ if they don't get back soon enough. She lets that fantasy bloom for a moment and cries out in surprise when he suddenly presses his fingers inside.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_," She moans, gasping and twisting her hips, trying to get him _deeper_ even as she feels him do so. She only just _wanted_ it before; now she _needs_ it.

"Yeah," She arches, shoving his hand deeper in hopes his fingers will follow, "Fucking—just—mm—almost _there_-" She shifts, releasing his hand to raise her own to thumb and rub at her clit, feeling the viscerally satisfying answering clench and spasm of heat deep in her core.

"What the—"

Her gaze darts up at him and she raises a brow of her own, "What?" She asks breathlessly, doing it again just for the way his eyes widen in surprise even as his green eyes darken, "You think just having fingers up my pussy is enough to get me off?" She licks her lips and starts up a rhythm, watching as his eyes dart over their fingers disappearing into her tights.

He glances back up at her and gives her a narrow-eyed look, "I just wasn't expecting that," he answers finally, licking his own lips as he flexes his fingers inside, testing maybe.

She pants out a laugh, "Now just imagine what it would feel like somewhere _else_."

She grins for that _flex_.

"Thrust for me," She orders, closing her eyes against the sensation, reveling in the heat, the steady pulse and yes—that sweet little _movement_ that's really just pathetic when push comes to shove (ha), but _sweet_ for the way it means he's _trying_.

"Fuck, you're _wet_," He breathes in her ear. She opens her eyes to look at him, but he's got his head down, watching as they both move for it, his fingers thrusting deeper even as her hips roll to catch his rhythm, "I didn't—is it _always_ like this?"

She breathes out a laugh and grunts at the feel of him slipping _deeper._ He isn't, but it damn well _feels_ like it.

"Sometimes," She pants and speeds up the rhythm on her clit, feeling her hips rock of their own accord, trying to catch more sensation, needing to. She's getting close, her body tightening, pulsing around his fingers as they thrust in and in. He's not near her core but she can imagine that he could be—that he _is_ and the thought of that, the thought of him _there_, of him thick and full and _deep_ finally sends her over the edge. She cries out and shudders, her entire body arching, her head scrapping against the alley wall even as her free hand's fingers spear into his shoulders, causing him to hiss in pain while his fingers twitch and flex inside her.

She gasps and shivers through the aftershocks, flushed and sated for the moment.

"Holy _fuck_," He breathes and he sounds breathless, almost awed. It makes her smile and look at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah," She sighs after a moment, the bursts of pleasure pulsing away from her. She moves then, her slick hand settling on his wrist and tugging lightly. She hums as she feels his fingers slip out, consoling her body with the promise of _better_ things inside it later.

They disentangle slowly, the discomfort and cold of the rain seeping back in as they make with the usual after-awkwardness. She belts her tights again and moves to pull down her top—

Only to be pressed back into the wall again, her mouth full of tongue and two hands on her breasts, squeezing them appreciatively. Her hands—raised and clenched into fists instinctively to fight off the attack, relax and clench on his shoulders drawing him back up against her.

They break apart with a wet _pop_ and he pauses to lick her lips before raising his eyes to hers, sea-green piercing even through the dark.

"Let's go home," He says after a moment, his thumbs stroking over her nipples like he didn't just say that, "And this time I'll get you naked,"

She grins at him, fingers stroking up his shoulders to his throat to caress his pulse-point, drawing his closer once again, "Only naked?"


End file.
